


animam agere.

by TheYellowKoala



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF, mcyt
Genre: Angst, Explosion, Festival, Hurt, Lightning - Freeform, anyways enjoy, but there's not much comfort, dont wanna give away too much, giving tommy and tubbo more trauma, i hope you cry /hj, l'manberg, not canon, or should i say spicy chilis, sadbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28651356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheYellowKoala/pseuds/TheYellowKoala
Summary: What if Tommy getting struck by lightning after the destruction of L'Manberg wasn't just a blooper? Yes, this is a small au in which Tommy actually gets hurt by the lightning, and let's just say Tubbo mentally can't take any more loss.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 164





	animam agere.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as background for an au I'm working on with a friend, but I thought I'd post it here too for your enjoyment.
> 
> Let me know if you want more mcyt stuff.

Tubbo sat on the edge of the obsidian, looking over the country. The country  _ he _ had failed to protect. If you could even call it a country anymore. Now it was just a bunch of holes, some of them stretching deep enough that bedrock could be seen. The small fires that had lingered well after the explosions were smothered by the downpour, leaving charred wood and black, jagged stone where the great nation had once stood.

He had failed to protect the one thing he was responsible for. Maybe if he had tried a little harder. Prepared a little more. Hadn’t stayed so quiet.

Maybe Dream was right.

Maybe he was the worst thing to ever happen to L’Manberg.

He let the rain drip down his back, becoming numb to the bone-chilling water.

In the end, it all boiled down to his fault. If he wasn’t president, then maybe things would’ve gone differently. Maybe, he wouldn’t be sitting above the ruins of the country he was supposed to be running.

_ My fault my fault my fault my fault my fault my fault my fault my fault my f- _

He snapped his head up at the flash of lightning nearby, his hands fumbling to grab hold of the wet obsidian as a loud clap of thunder followed, nearly falling from his perch. He looked around, running a hand through his hair and shaking out some of the water that had gathered there when he spotted a group of people huddled around something.

No, someone.

He stood up, squinting, trying to make out who was there.

Wilbur, Quackity, Eret, Jack Manifold-

“ _ Tommy. _ ”

He had meant for it to come out as a scream, but instead, it exited his throat as barely a whisper, immediately washed away by the rain.

He scrambled to get down, his feet stumbling on loose rocks and debris.

He needed to get to Tommy.

Maybe the timing of the lightning had just been a coincidence, and Tommy had just fallen a short way. Maybe he was looking into it too much, like he did on that dreadful day at Logstedshire.

His thoughts sounded more like a wish than rationalizing.

He sprinted across what was left of L’Manberg towards the group, the rain stinging his eyes.

He pushed through the group, taking in the sight before him.

A figure lay crumpled on the ground, broken, unmoving. His arms were snaked with red and purple, only a small tint of pink left on his lips and cheeks.

“Tommy!”

He threw off the hand that had come to rest on his shoulder and slid to his knees, the sharp rocks cutting into them, but Tubbo barely noticed.

His sharp breaths echoed in his throat as he frantically jabbed his fingers in and around Tommy's neck, trying to find any sort of pulse.

He put his ear to Tommy's mouth, hoping,  _ wishing, _ that his breaths were just too fine to hear and his pulse too weak to detect.

Nothing.

_ My fault my fault my fault m- _

He kneeled over Tommy with trembling hands, a weak, “No,” escaping his throat.

What was he doing? It wasn’t too late, there was still time. The lightning hadn’t struck that long ago.

He braced his shaking hands over Tommy's chest and started pressing down in sharp motions.

Thirty compressions, two breaths. He repeated the mantra in his head like a lifeline.

He stopped after the thirty compressions and leaned over Tommy's mouth, wheezing in as much air as he could through his tight throat and tried giving as much air as he could to Tommy, watching his chest rise and fall. 

He repeated the process and sat back for a moment, training his blurred vision on his chest, looking for any signs of life.

Nothing.

He pushed himself back up on his knees, going through the motions again. Thirty compressions, two breaths.

He focused on the steady up and down motions, Tommy’s chest giving way underneath his hands, and rising up and down when he tried to give him his own air.

This time he stayed at the ready, watching his chest and his mouth.

“No no no no no no,” He whispered as he started another set, “Come on Tommy, don’t give up now.”

The rain had completely soaked through his shirt, making it cling to him. His hair was plastered to his forehead with rain and sweat, his friend's face blurred from either tears or rain, he couldn’t tell. That mattered to him least.

He leaned down for another rescue breath.

“Please,” He croaked, watching his chest rise and fall with the forced breath again. He tried again. “Come back.”

He went in again, his compressions getting more sloppy and frantic as he noticed the colour draining from Tommy’s lips.

“No,” he choked out, trying to suppress the tears gathering in the back of his throat.

The fatigue weighed down his arms, but he refused to stop. He couldn’t. Tommy needed him.

And he needed Tommy.

He gave two more weak breaths, the hope he had had at the beginning dwindling drastically.

Despite that, he started again, desperately pushing down, the once steady pumps now weak and staggered as he started wheezing through the cold air, fighting the urge to collapse beside Tommy.

_ Tubbo. _

He kept going, begging in silent whispers. To whom? He wasn’t sure.

_ Tubbo. _

He wiped away the water from his eyes, bracing his hands and continuing.

“Tubbo!” He finally registered the voice behind him but refused to acknowledge it. Tommy needed all of his attention.

“Tubbo stop.” The person behind him gripped onto his arm, pulling it away from Tommy’s chest.

“No!” The word tore through his throat, startling the person behind him enough that they let go, “I can’t.”

He gave another two weak breaths.

“Goddammit!” He cursed under his breath when Tommy didn’t respond to his efforts.

He started again.

“Tubbo!” The person grabbed his arm again, this time with a firmer grip. “Tubbo you have to stop.”

The teen tried to wriggle free of this person's grip, but his arms were jelly and it was almost useless.

“Tubbo look at me.”

He reluctantly turned his head around, the blurry shapes resembling the face of Quackity.

“Tubbo he’s-” Quackity’s breath hitched in his throat, “I don’t think he’s gonna come back. I’m sorry, I really am, but there’s nothing else-”

Tubbo cut Quackity off with a swift kick to the gut, the tears that had been gathering in his eyes spilling over his cheeks. “You’re lying!” He scrambled on his hands and knees back to Tommy, trying to start another round of compressions.

He gave another two breaths before Quackity pried him off again, pulling him to his feet.

“Stop!” He wriggled, trying to get back to his friend.  _ His friend who was currently dying.  _

“Let me go,” he yelled through tears, “let me go!”

“Let me-”

He brought a hand to his mouth, letting his knees give out underneath him.

His knees sank into the mud.

Tommy was gone.

_ My fault my fault my fault my f- _

The tears were replaced by rain, and the sudden silence deafening. It was only now he started to realize the ringing in his ears, and the rain that had soaked through his clothes, chilling him right to the bone. The fatigue that weighed down his arms and legs. The blood trickling down his cheek mixed with dirt and rain.

The numbness, only broken through the aching in his chest.

Tommy was gone, and it was his fault.

_ My fault. _

He not only failed to protect his nation but his best friend. They had just made up, Tubbo had barely gotten to apologize.

He never gave a proper apology.

Although the white noise in his ears drowned out most other voices, there was one sound that broke it, coming through clear as a bell.

A breath, followed by coughing.

_ Tommy. _

He scrambled over on his hands and knees, Eret already there turning him on his side.

Tubbo could only watch as Tommy took in shallow breaths. His friend, normally so loud, so boisterous, always able to get a laugh out of people no matter the situation, was silent.

The only sound that escaped his lips were weak, shallow breaths.

But they were breaths.

Tubbo leaned back against a rock, letting out the breath that had been stuck in his throat ever since the lightning strike.

Tommy was alive, and maybe, just maybe, it was his fault.


End file.
